


Paper Airplanes and Confetti

by windandthestars



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Community: kink_bingo, Community: sanctuary_bingo, Episode: s04e10 Acolyte, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wants to be Kate, spunky and invincible.  She wants to threaten to kick his ass, and sometimes when she means it, follow through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Airplanes and Confetti

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate take on the end of Acolyte. Kate doesn't make out so well.
> 
> For kink_bingo: service and sanctuary_bingo: Kate's room.

It’s been months since the afternoon he sat by her bed waiting for her to wake up, praying- despite the fact he hadn’t been to church since his grandmother’s funeral- that she would be ok. Magnus had said that she was out of the woods, that eventually everything would go back to normal. A part of him was still waiting for that to happen, for things to go back to normal.

He knows that is has, normal is still normal, it’s just different than before, but it’s still hard, watching her struggle. She wants to be Kate, spunky and invincible. She wants to threaten to kick his ass, and sometimes when she means it, follow through. She wants to go back to the man she had thought she had loved. She wants to pretend, for a moment, that none of this is real.

She throws a lot of stuff now, in part because he knows she’s angry and partly to prove that she can. She had broken a lot things in the beginning, her phone, her ipod, the better part of a set of soup bowls. He’s learned to keep those things just out of reach, to leave smaller things, less breakable things closer to her. She likes to throw the vase of flowers he keeps beside the bed. She always smiles a bit as the brightly colored petals smash into the floor to be trampled underfoot.

He leaves her books too, ones he picks up from the discard bin at the local library. Some days she cuts out tiny paper chains and makes him hang them around the room, draping them from the tops of windows and the corners of doors. She picks the places just out of his reach and he makes sure he tips the stepladder toward her bed so she stare at his ass.

Occasionally she makes paper airplanes, flying stacks of them out into the hall, and sometimes, when throwing the vase isn’t enough she shreds the books, bits of paper like furious confetti layered in a fine grit around her bed.

It makes her furious, the shredded paper, the way her fingers start to fumble, her hands cramp. He’s learned to wait her out- to watch her fury grow until it spirals out, book flying, tears falling- before gathering her in his arms. She hates that, how easily she curls into him, tucking herself into his chest. She can’t remember Garris, but she knows that he’s not the one that made her happy; he’s Will, not the nameless guy, and despite the fact that Will’s the one that’s here, it doesn’t compute for her. She wants things the way they were. She doesn’t want Will.

She doesn’t want to be here in this place they both call home. She doesn’t want slow laps around the halls or hours spent sitting with her back against the armory door. She doesn’t want the books or the vase beside her bed, but Will makes sure they’re always there, makes sure he’s always there, because that’s what she needs. He may not be the guy she wants right now, but he’s the one that’s here, the one she needs, and that’s good enough for him.


End file.
